From contemporaneous history it has been gathered that the salary was £25 13s. 4d., and school fees are stated at 20-surely a modest income! But even this is probably an exaggerated statement, for as Mr. Scott never rendered any accounts for fees, he would not in those days have them fully and gratuitously paid. It is doubtless more correct to state his total income, including precentor's salary (if any), as less than £10 per annum. To this, there falls to be added his remuneration for evening school work. He had sometimes thirty pupils-farmers' sons and others to whom he taught Mensuration, etc. There was also the "Hansel" gift on the first Monday of the year, the most liberal donor acquiring the envied title of king among his fellows.

Lilliesleaf is a delightfully situated village, and has probably for many generations, with its Church and school, been the nursery and last home or hamlet of those who were wont to cultivate the gently undulating slopes of the pellucid Ale. The minister who wrote the statistical account of the parish, almost the only authentic record of events for a century, speaks thus of its progress: "Thirty years ago there were only seven hats in the parish, but at present there are not so many bonnets." Improvements would, no doubt, follow in other respects, and as an old resident informs me, there was built a "muckle graun schule, wi' three wundies i' each side o't." Nor was this the only scholastic seminary in the village, for before 1820 there was an adventure school, which took away from Mr. Scott almost all his pupils, except those who were paupers. It is not surprising that he thus

muses:

"The sport of Fate-the great man's scɔrn,Neglected by the vulgar born,

Defrauded of his rightful bread :

What wonder though his lays be dull, unpitied and unknown,

He'd wish his weary soul were flown
To find repose in heaven!"

Not even the parish minister (1816-42) befriended him, for it is written, "he bore him a pique." But in spite of all this antagonism and temptation to despondency, he bravely taught and ruled; and from that remote (in those days) country school, there has been sent forth a galaxy of names of extremely wide reputation. When taunted by the opposition, he could boast of thirty-six feet of medical men-having had under his charge at various times six lads, who each eventually stood six feet and became Doctors of Medicine. Among his pupils may be mentioned:-Professors Wilson, Glasgow, and Richardson, Amsterdam; Drs. Smith, Turnbull, (of India,) Buchan, and Thor

burn; Revs. John Cochrane, Hawick; John Gray, Falstane; Jas. Wright, Oxnam, and Ro. Thorburn, Jamaica: and Wm. Knox, author of Songs of Zion. This is a record of which no dominie, past or present, needs be ashamed.

The publication of the little book already referred to, arose from the fact that he was driven to do so by straitened circumstances. A new Manse was being built at a cost of £600. It was his duty to collect the heritors' assessment, having paid which to the tradesmen by instalments, he found a balance of £10 against him. Some of the heritors urged him to publish his poems. They further solicited the surrounding gentry to purchase copies. But when all was done, the author's profit was only £5. Corse Scott of Synton, was specially interested in the publication. The gentleman to whom the book was dedicated—Mr. Pringle-was then residing at Haining, near Selkirk, and was a Member of the Parliament of 1819.

Mr.

Mr. Scott is said to have written occasionally for the Scots Magazine, but the only contribution over the initials "G.S." which I discover is "A Translation from the Medea of Euripides-a Choral Ode," (Jan., 1825) which at least bore internal evidence of authorship. From his poems it may be inferred that some of his writ ings first appeared in The Pocket Magazine (1827-30), a work which is now very rare Border Memories it is stated that Mr Scott had in manuscript a "Statistical Account of Roxburghshire," which was shewn to the Sheriff of Selkirkshire. It was thought to be worthy of publication, but it cannot now be traced.

In

The preface to Heath Flowers is very modest, and, as became the literary style of the day, it is couched in dignified language and severe exactitude of form. The subjects of his muse are varied, but they do not possess much local interest "Dryburgh Abbey," perhaps, being the only poem suggestive of devotion to the scenes and stories of our dear Borderland.

When Mr. Scott had been nearly fifty years a parochial teacher, he very naturally sought the retirement which the law provided, and the allowance or pension to which he was entitled. With difficulty he obtained the promise of £40 per annum, which promise was not very faithfully fulfilled, for the principal heritor refused to pay his share by £5. This deficit was made up by the villagers. It was collected in small subscriptions of a shilling and upwards, paid quarterly. But not for long was the worthy old man a burden upon the parish. In 1853 he paid the debt of nature, and at the age of seventy-seven, only three years after his retiral, he was laid to rest among the generations he had served so

ΠΟ

THE BORDER KEEP. By DOMINIE SAMPSON,

J

N the "wa'gang" of the year, when the nights were long, and the bleakness of winter lay over the land, there was no cheerier place in all Sunnyside than the cobbler's shop. The village Parliament met there night after night. Rob Elshin was recognised as a master of silence or debate. Sometimes the play of wit would take too rough a shape, and then Rob would lay down his hammer and look at the offender. No more was needed; his silence silenced all. Or some one would throw out a question about the Tweed Acts. Then his eyes kindled, and he would pour forth a flood of vehement fiery words that would have shrivelled up the most tyrannical landlord-had he been there. A thorough-going Radical was he, hating shams, and cant, and flunkeyism, yet loved by all, for behind a somewhat rough and stern manner there beat the heart of a child, quick to sympathise and ready to help.

Among those who foregathered in the little back shop was Bill Grieve. Bill was a frugal

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youth of some forty years, who had been left with a few bawbees when his father, the cadger, died. He had a curious habit of speaking to himself-caused in large measure by his deafness. And the many mistakes inspired by his deafness, coupled with his habits of scrimping, led to many a laugh in the village at his expense. The goodwives often wondered what kind of a house he had, for during the fifteen years since his mother's death, never a woman had he allowed across his doorstep.

And this was the man who gave the cobbler's club such a shock that even Rob's spirited invectives on the iniquity of the law fell quite flat. In the middle of a debate—of which he had heard little and understood less-he rose from his seat and said:

"Weel, chaps, it's waefu' wark when there's nae wumman i' the hoose, an' I'm gettin' mairret."

In a moment every eye was upon him. Rob let the wooden pegs drop from his mouth.

"Feth," he said afterwards, "I thocht I'd swallowed them." Then he turned to Ned Tait who was busy soling a pair of boots:

"Ned, ye're the only chap I ken o' here that can deal wi' him. A man wi' sair heels has some peety on bad walkers. See what he means."

Ned laid down the boot, and turned on his stool, "Aye Bill—an' when is't to be?"

“Na, na, my callant, I'm no' gaun to my tea. I'm gaun to the Leddy's Plantin' to meet her comin' frae Maxpoffle."

"Oh tea be bothered "-roared Ned, "I'm askin' whan is the marriage?"

"Nane o' yer impidence. Ye ken I've nae cairrage excep' the auld barra' my faither made the 'eer afore he deid. An' feth it'll come in handy. Bella has mony a weary walk frae the shop wi' crockery to her customers. An' I'll save her that. Then what a savin' o' pent! My vera name's abune the door already-B. Grieve-ye see it's been ordained to be by the po'ers abune, an' we maun submit "-he very piously concluded.

At this naive confession the room rang with laughter, and all the merrier because it was well known that Ned Tait had a great longing himself in the same quarter.

"If I'm no' upsides wi' that auld sinner afore I'm a week aulder," said Ned next morning, "ye may ca' me a born fule."

"What are ye thinkin' o?" said the apprentice. "Weel, here's my idea. Ye ken Bella an' me's aboot a size, I saw her last nicht, an' she's gien me the len' o' a hat an' a dress-an' yon red shawl she wears reg'lar. She's gaun to pit them ' the strae bern where I'll get them. Then at nicht I'll slip up the burn till I get near the Plantin'. Bill's sure to be there the nicht. Sae wull I. An' I'll gie him his fill o' coortin"." “Man, that's grand. What a heid ye hev'," said the boy. Then after a while he chuckled to himself.

That same night, Ned went to the barn, where he arrayed himself in Bella's garments-to the great delight of an unseen watcher up in the loft. Slim, short, and beardless, Ned was a very good imitation of a woman, and in the darkening of the night he looked the very person he pretended to be. He had waited but a few minutes at the Plantin', when he saw Bill Grieve come slouching along the road.

"A fine nicht, Bill."

"Deed aye," the licht's no bad for the time o' year. Ye're lookin' weel, Bell."

"I'm sorry I canna return the compliment. Ye're lookin' rale disjaskit."

"The basket," returned Bill, "hoot aye, let's see'd, I'll cairry'd for ye. Eh, wumman, I'm

awfu' gled to get a crack wi' ye withoot yon born sumph, Ned Tait, kennin' o'd."

"Dinna be sae hard on the chiel," said the supposed Bella, "he's no sae bad."

"A fraud ! Weel, weel, we never ken what we're comin' till. I thocht ye likit 'im, an' I ken he's braggin' aboot ye. I doot he's made a mistake."

"Noo Bill, no' anither word or ye'll anger me," said Ned in quivering falsetto voice, "I didna ask yer company, an' ye can gang yer ain gate."

"Keep company? O Bell! That's been my wish this lang while. Hidden i' my hert it's lain for weeks, an' noo the flame o' love's lowin' like to burn me up."

This was more than Ned had bargained for when he began the jest, and when Bill threw his arms round his neck he felt utterly at a loss what to do next. He wriggled out of Bill's embrace, and set off homewards as fast as he could walk. As they entered Sunnyside, Bill stopped: "Noo my dawtie, we maun pairt here. It'll no' dae to set the toun in a clash juist yet. Here's a bit keepsake to mind ye o' yer promise to be my joe. Guid nicht! I'll see ye at the kirk the morn."

No sooner had he gone than Ned hurried over to the barn to get on his own clothes. He was glad to get off his disguise-but, oh horror! his own clothes had gone. All he could do was to leave Bella's garments and scurry home across the fields in his trousers and shirt. Luckily no one saw him, and when he had slipped on his working clothes-he had no others he went over to the barn to remove the bundle down to the crockery shop were Bella lived. A strange feeling of helplessness possessed him when again he failed to find the bundle. He made as thorough a search as his nerves would permit, and then went to tell his sweetheart that her clothes had disappeared. He met such a stormy reception that he was glad to go home. A more uncomfortable night he never passed. And when next day-Sundaydawned he feigned illness to escape going to church. He was precentor in the Established Kirk and had to shirk his duties, as he could not face the congregation in his working clothes. Unfortunately, another reason entered the minds of all who were there. For when the sermon was over, the minister read that there was a purpose of marriage between Sibella Grieve of this parish and Andrew Dean of Darnick. And of course the credit of Ned's absence was given to the proclamation. Never was sermon less discussed in Sunnyside, nor intimation more pondered, and great sympathy was given all that day to Ned for the way in which he

had been used. But when Monday night revealed the plots and counterplots there began such a time of torment to Tait, that he had to leave the village altogether.

The cobbler's shop was fuller than usual that night. Ned, who was sitting very quiet and subdued, had many a jest fired against him by all, and specially by Bill Grieve who was not slow to hint that even he had been before him in the struggle. Then Ned rose.

"See here, Bill, time aboot's fair play. D'ye ken what that is?" He held out in the gaze of all, a little ivory charm. "That's what ye gien me on Setterday nicht after kissin' me doun at Whitelee Road end there."

Then he told the story of his walk with Grieve, and, deaf as Bill was, he saw how he had been deluded. In the midst of the laughter Jimmy Elshin, the apprentice, slipped two parcels in front of Ned, who stared as he saw his lost clothes, and those he had borrowed from Bella Grieve. Jimmy retreated to his father's side, and there told his story-how Bella and he had planned this hoax on Ned because she did not want to be troubled any longer with his attentions.

Ned was thunderstruck. He made a spring at Jimmy, but Rob stood up. "Na na, Ned, ye fairly diddled Bill, but it strikes me Bella's dune you as weel. Better luck next time-an' nae mair aboot it."

The False Alarm: A Tale of 1804.
By ROBERT HALL, GALASHIELS.
PART III.

A

S the beacons did not extend into Liddesdale, the alarm was given from Hawick by James Moffat, the cavalry trumpeter, who rode up the vale of Slitrig, and down through Liddesdale to arouse the volunteers in that district. The response was prompt, and they proved themselves worthy descendants of the Elliots and Armstrongs famous in Border story. They rushed with all the impetuosity of their native streams to the gathering place at Hawick. It is recorded by Sir Walter Scott, that when the news of the rising arrived in India, Dr. John Leyden, of Border memory, was lying ill of fever. When he heard the letter read, which described the rising of the volunteers, more especially those of Liddesdale, how they swam the Liddel and marched into Hawick, to the old Border tune, "Wha daur meddle wi' me?" Leyden's countenance became animated, he sprang from his bed, and with strange gesticulations sang, "Wha daur meddle wi' me? Wha daur meddle wi' me?" Those at his bedside,

who knew nothing of the love of the Borderer for the Borderland, attributed the scene to the delirium of fever.

The beacon on the Dunion conveyed the tidings to Jedburgh and surrounding district. As soon as the signal was observed, the Provost ordered the alarm bell to be rung, and the town's drummer to beat to arms. The inhabitants rushed to the Cross to learn regarding the whereabouts of the French. In a short time the streets were crowded with people from the surrounding country, all anxious to know the worst. The volunteers assembled at the Cross, and though the majority of the officers resided in the country, they were promptly upon the spot, engaged in mustering the men who numbered 108, and when the roll was called nearly all answered to their names. On the arrival of Lieutenant Colonel Sir Gilbert Elliot, who swam the flooded Teviot on horseback, pending the receipt of orders, the volunteers were dismissed for the purpose of setting their houses in order, and taking leave of their friends, with strict orders to fall in and march at a moment's notice. When the drum beat for parade the following morning, a strong young volunteer called out in a faint voice, "Jenny, gi'es a drink," but before the desired liquid had touched his lips, the squeamish warrior had fallen in a dead faint. Bailie Borthwick was present, and having witnessed the incident exclaimed, "I wad raither hae laid your head in the coffin than see ye play sic a trick on sic a morning." But the craven-hearted volunteer heard not, and his place in the ranks remained empty. The company was examined on the rampart by Sir Gilbert Elliot, who came to a halt in front of a stranger who had taken up his position in the ranks. He was poorly clad in a suit of dirty working clothes, and armed with an old firelock,-a striking contrast to the somewhat foppish appearance of the company. "Hulloa, my lad," said Sir Gilbert, "where are you from?" "Frae Horsley Hill, ma lord," was the reply, at the same time saluting by raising his hand to the tattered remains of an old slouch hat. "And pray where are you going?" was the next question. "To have a day's blattering at the French." you are not a volunteer." "Maybe no, but I am willing to be one," was the ready reply. "Hold up your hand," said Sir Gilbert, and in a few moments the latest recruit was sworn in. Such was the spirit shown at Jedburgh, that men rose from their sick beds and took their place in the ranks, rather than be absent when danger had to be faced. The uniform worn by the Jedburgh Volunteers was acquired by the men

"But

themselves, and consisted of a blue swallowtailed coat with scarlet facings, white waistcoat and breeches, white cotton stockings, and short black gaiters, added to these a tall bearskin hat, overtopped by a taller feather. This somewhat fancy uniform, on one occasion, caused the reviewing officer to remark, that the company seemed better fitted for the ball-room than the field.

When the alarm reached Whittinghame, the Royal Cheviot Legion obeyed the summons with the greatest promptitude, and waited impatiently for the order to march. Next morning a message came from the Duke of Northumberland announcing the alarm to be false, and at the same time conveying to the company the high opinion he entertained of their loyalty and zeal.

About midnight the alarm reached Berwick, and the news spread rapidly. By two o'clock the following morning, the whole troop of North Durham Cavalry marched into the town, and remained under arms till night, when the volunteers were put on garrison duty. The sentinels were doubled on the walls, and the inhabitants were kept in a painful state of suspense till the following afternoon, when they learned with certainty that their famous old city was, on that occasion at least, safe from French invasion. On November 5, 1804, an order was issued commanding that all volunteers within one day's march of Berwick, were to enter that garrison upon the first notice of the enemy having landed upon any part of the coast of Britain.

In addition to the Volunteer Infantry, there were also numerous companies of Yeomanry. The Roxburghshire contingent numbered 108, and when the alarm was given, they were assembled in Jedburgh from the most distant parts of the country by one o'clock in the morning. The next few hours were spent in making preparation for taking the field, and at six o'clock the bugle sounded to horse, and in a few minutes the march was begun. Kelso was reached at a sharp trot, when the horses were fed, and accompanied by the Berwickshire troop of horsemen, the march was resumed, and on reaching Dunse they were billeted for the night. Next morning the assembly was sounded, when they were informed that their services were not required on that occasion, and liberty was granted to return home.

twenty to thirty miles distant from the mustering place, they were embodied and marched into Dalkeith about one o'clock on the day succeeding the first signal, with men and horses in good order, though the roads were in a bad state, and many of the troopers must have ridden forty to fifty miles without drawing bridle. At Dalkeith they received every attention and civility from the inhabitants, and every accommodation the crowded state of the town would allow." One of the troopers was young Scott, of Kirkhope, and as soon as the alarm reached that remote dwelling, he was quickly mounted and ready for the road. His mother, who had already wept at news of battle for the loss of her sons, stepped forward to her surviving hope, and asked a parting kiss. He leant from his saddle, and she consecrated him to the service of his King and country, with a mother's blessing. On March 15, 1804, the Selkirk Yeomanry assembled at Torwoodlee, the residence of their Captain, and was presented with a standard sewn by the hands of Miss Pringle. The banner was consecrated by the Rev. Mr. Robertson, minister of Selkirk. One side bore a representation of Newark Tower, and a forester armed with a bow shooting at a running deer. On the reverse were the letters G. R. under an imperial Crown, and the thistle, rose, and shamrock, the whole surrounded by the motto Pro aris et focis.

In addition to the 772 Volunteer Infantry in Berwickshire, there were 160 Yeomen whose gathering place was at Dunse, from which place they marched to Dunbar, where they arrived at daybreak. Finding their services were not required they were disbanded, and that evening some reached their homes, having ridden altogether from sixty to eighty miles with little rest.

In reference to the event the following order was issued from Jedburgh, on the 2nd February, 1804:-"Lieutenant Colonel Rutherford requests that the letter, which he has had the honour to receive from General the Earl of Moira, may be communicated to the volunteers. He has only to regret with his Lordship, which he does most sincerely, that their zeal upon this occasion has been disappointed. Had they been opposed to the enemy, the event would have shown them worthy of their ancestors, and though the opportunity has not been afforded them, they have the satisfaction of knowing that they have acted the part of men deserving well of their country.

"In dismissing them to their homes and families, he begs leave to offer them his sincerest thanks, that their conduct has, if possible, added